


Worst Case Scenario

by baku_midnight



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, Flirting, Insecurity, M/M, Mild Smut, Oral Sex, Pick-Up Lines, nonchalant attitude towards death, terrible survivor strats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-31 16:08:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13978719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baku_midnight/pseuds/baku_midnight
Summary: Gross flirting and tragically dying.





	Worst Case Scenario

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: in my head, David’s accent sounds exactly like John Boyega’s.

David had never really tried hard at having a relationship. Maybe it had something to do with a lack of effort, turning on his heel when met with even the slightest resistance, the first “maybe we should take it slow” or “we’d have to know each other a bit longer” or “you’d have to meet my parents first” driving him marching in the other direction. Maybe there was some fear of commitment, but more likely all the gooey stuff just seemed to get in the way of a good time.

 

Problem was, David didn’t tend to do anything by halves. If he thought he couldn’t succeed absolutely in the endeavor, he’d rather try elsewhere. Maybe this was his penance, why he was here. Like that old bloke visited by three guilt-tripping ghosts, he was here to learn a lesson about commitment and bonds that lasted more than a night.

 

Still, it took a few nights of staring and twiddling his thumbs before he realized—or, well, he called them nights even though there was nothing _but_ night, the time between trials was eternally dark, the moon and the stars as good as light and the canopy of evergreen trees their curtain, and under it, the survivors contemplated what it meant to survive without surviving, or envisioned who would look best in what compromising position—that it was time to _try._

 

David assumed they all fantasized about shagging each other, though maybe it was just him. It was mostly out of boredom, when he found himself staring up at a sunless sky, twisting the ring on his thumb, but he’d narrowed it down to his top picks among his clueless cohorts. Claudette would be a fantastic lay, with those long legs and small waist, and David could just imagine the squeaky noises that would come out of her, and how she reminded him of a girl who got naked in a movie he liked. Nea seemed like someone who knew her way around—or at least, wanted to look that way, which made David smirk and plot ways to wind her up. Jake was cute, but he seemed like the type who might get too into himself to be an attentive partner, might be too demanding or too placid.

 

But Dwight—Dwight wasn’t even on the list, he was so far _beyond_ it. He was so far out of the list he was in his own category, in David’s mind. Dwight was the guy in middle school with the thin wrists and the kissable cheeks David was too afraid to have it off with because he thought his mates would take the mick or worse. He was the neighbor boy who climbed over the fence to steal cigarettes off of David’s daddy’s porch, leaving David staring in awe at the middle finger sent his direction as the lad disappeared over the fence again. He was the bespectacled guy in the XXX-rated clip that David once watched, putting his wrist over his face as he got a blow in a toilet stall and sobbed as he came a fountain.

 

Some nights (not that there was night, and certainly not sleep or dreams) David didn’t think about shagging at all, and that’s when he knew it was serious. He just wanted to impress Dwight, make him smile and tip his chin and tell David he was doing a good job and call him handsome and brave. He felt like a little kid who wanted to be praised: an 11-year-old with a crush on his teacher, a businessman fawning over his favourite waitress or something equally pathetic. Intimacy had always been an option in the Entity’s realm, just like pain, and affection, admiration? Apparently always had been an option, because David was feeling it, even as hunger, thirst, and other earthly compulsions faded. He wanted the lovely American, and hard.

 

Unfortunately for his prospects, David had little to offer aside from cobweb-covered chat-up lines and a few love-making techniques that women’s magazines probably considered tame. Sitting at the fireside and throwing the occasional bait Dwight’s direction garnered little response, but sometimes, rarely, and more frequently as of late, he got an answer.

 

“Fancy meeting you ’ere,” David called across the flames to where Dwight sat brooding on an adjacent log, like the t-shirt. Makes you look buff.”

 

Dwight rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, I’m a regular tough guy.”

 

A round with the ghostly fucker with the bell saw David with cuts all over his palms from crawling in the gravel, scraping through nails and stones and bits of rusted metal, laughing his way through the exit door after his team. Dwight sat the round out, staring at his hands at the fireside, David imagined, or doing whatever counted for passing the time in their undying realm.

 

Scratching the bandages on his palms—he had to hand it to the entity, at least wounds healed up quick around the fire—David plunked down on the far end of the log upon which Dwight sat.

 

“Well, I’m ’ere,” David announced, “what were your other two wishes?”

 

“Oh, stop it,” Dwight replied, turning away, facing the woods with the fire against his back.

 

“Yeah, that was a bad one,” David admitted, peeling his bandages off and throwing them into the fire. His palms were already clean and unmarred, save for the little cut on the back of his palm from a broken lager bottle, the little star-shaped scar on his thumb from burning himself with a fag while drunk—vestiges of his life before the Forest, possibly indelible indefinitely. Dwight scratched his nose and made a sound of agreement that to David sounded like affirmation. An “all systems go”-type message that was probably closer to an “I’m going to tolerate your B.S. for now”.

 

It was time to ante up, make a play at his whole “having a relationship”, check one off the list, something—worst case scenario, he got a _friend_ out of this, and even that sounded like a treat in this miserable realm. Maybe he managed to make Dwight smile rather than cry or grimace, laugh instead of whine, maybe, even, if he was really lucky, both.

 

 

 

Scootching closer, inch by unbearable inch, David found himself seated beside Dwight after a few nights (well, again, there was _only_ night, but trials separated the doldrums), close enough to put a hand on his knee and give a meaningful squeeze at which Dwight just raised his eyebrow.

 

“Are you a mirror, love?” David teased, and Dwight shuffled a little away from his side, “because I can see myself in you.”

 

“ _Ha,_ ” Dwight chuckled at that one, a dry, coarse sort of sound, eyes not smiling. He rested his chin in his hand, elbow on his knee, staring resolutely across the fire. Nea and Meg sat on an adjacent log.

 

“We could be like them, you know,” David tried a different tactic, leaning close enough that if he tripped, he’d end up tasting the sweat behind Dwight’s ear, “you an’ me.”

 

The two women insisted loudly—and publically, their fights often taking on an exhibitionist flare—that they were _just friends_ and that the _other one_ was taking things too far, but they sat holding hands more often than not, sitting and looking in two different directions. It’s not like anyone couldn’t hear when they snuck off into the woods to play with each other, Meg yelping and riding Nea’s hand until David was sure it would fall off. They seemed to figure out the whole “relationship” thing, in their own ridiculous way. And honestly, the constant drama, the back-and-forth, never-boring passion seemed pretty appealing to David.

 

Dwight snorted. “More dysfunctional than a reality TV show?”

 

“Oh, I’m definitely telling ’em you said that,” David teased, and Dwight shook his head.

 

 

 

Sighs and eye-rolls turned into the occasional smirk and even smile, and eventually they were sitting pressed together at the hip, David wrapping his arm around Dwight’s waist and fingering the wrinkles of his shirt. He was pretty certain that when he stuck his cold hand under the hem and planted it against Dwight’s hip, it wasn’t just allowed to remain there because Dwight was too exhausted from trials to shake him off. After all, Dwight was never pushing him away, but saying “not happening” in his own sardonic, humorless way. David wasn’t used to “no”, maybe because he never got far enough to hear it.

 

Dwight’s hand eventually joined his on his knee, threading through the fingers and pressing their palms gently together, enjoying the assurance of his touch.

 

“Big hands,” Dwight commented. His were long and with pronounced knuckles, where David’s palm was wide and his fingers broad, collecting gold rings from the Entity’s latest bounty, rings that made him look like an old-time swindler but seemed to entertain the rest. Min appropriated the ones for his little fingers and wore them on her thumbs. Dwight compared their hands briefly, laying his fingers flat on top of David’s so that the tips aligned.

 

“You know what they say about big ’ands,” David smirked, “big gloves.”

 

Dwight actually laughed out loud at that one, opening his mouth wide and throwing back his head. He squeezed their hands tightly together and David couldn’t help the way it made his heart spread through his ribcage like butter.

 

 

 

Trials came and went like shifts in the weather. There was no way to tell how time passed aside from the fatigue that trials brought. There was a scream from across the yard and Dwight, David and Claudette all looked up to see their fourth teammate missing.

 

The gate screeched open and Dwight stumbled through, clutching his side. Claudette followed and immediately reached for him, checking here and there for the source of his bleeding to staunch it. The hole in his shoulder was the obvious culprit, and she padded it quickly with bandages while David hovered at the door. A scream echoed across the yard and the three quirked their heads to it, and then David was giving Dwight a look that had him trembling.

 

“Wait,” Dwight said. He opened his mouth a few times, looking for the right words, wincing when Claudette tied the dressing tight around his shoulder.

 

“It’s alright, be back in no time.” David was fairly well-off, and given the way his two cohorts could barely stand up straight, Claudette now applying dressing to her own dribbling waist, there wasn’t much of a choice.

 

“Wait, just,” Dwight strained, “we can all go,” he struggled out, knowing time was running down. The look in his watery eyes made David’s heart practically soar, knowing Dwight would actually consider it. Funny how a look like that could make the fear of death all but flee.

 

“It’s fine, you stay here and distract ’im, then run out when ’e comes,” David explained, turning to leave back out through the gates again. It was incongruous, and his whole body, including his aching leg and bleeding back, protested as he went, until Dwight reached out and grabbed his wrist.

 

He pulled David in for a kiss, then, so quick and shocking David’s eyes barely had time to close before it was over, Dwight pulling away with a sad look on his pale features. He let go and David stepped away, backwards, stumbling for a retort but retrieving none before he turned, broke into a sprint, and left the duo in the doorway.

 

He drew the killer away from Min and the four of them made it out, but David was practically moving on instinct, ducking and diving through the debris of the asylum grounds, his mind empty of everything but the memory of cold lips on his.

 

 

 

“Fancy meeting you ’ere,” David laughed as he rounded the clearing, picking off the bandage that was coiled tight around his wrist. Vestiges of the battle always became inert on the other side of the door, though sometimes they came to the fire in a staggered fashion, wild and alert or dragging despondent limbs.

 

Dwight blinked up at him, before quickly turning away and wiping his nose on the back of his wrist. He’d been crying.

 

David’s heart clenched and he considered how to proceed. Pointing it out would surely make things worse, and he knew he didn’t have the motherly design of Claudette to drop weeping to his knees and pull Dwight to his bosom, so he just grit his teeth and grinned harder.

 

“Come ’ere often?” David chuckled, sitting down on the log beside Dwight, grunting at the little swell of pain in his back that he knew would soon pass into memory.

 

Dwight let out an exasperated laugh. “Yeah, pretty much.”

 

“Don’t think I’ve seen you before,” David went on, leaning over to look Dwight in the eye. The man recoiled a little, turning his head and rubbing his eyes, his glasses pushed up onto his forehead. “I’d remember brown eyes like those.”

 

Dwight laughed airily, a sob still clinging to his voice. He wiped his face messily, sniffling. “Maybe you just have a bad memory.”

 

“Maybe,” David said lowly, “’cause I think I remember you kissin’ me.”

 

“David,” Dwight warned, posture tightening suddenly. He did a quick scan of the fireside to see no attention on the two of them, then said under his breath, “don’t.”

 

“Don’t what, love?”  David tilted his head. The anxiety was to be expected—Dwight practically exuded it like a pheromone, when the trial was done and no one was counting on him, when he could unspool and cry and go quiet—but the coldness, not so much.

 

“We’re not doing this,” Dwight said dryly, “being a…thing.”

 

“Don’t haff to,” David answered immediately, betrayed by the desperation in his voice, “just like having y’around, mate. Just wanna—”

 

“Leave me alone, please,” Dwight mumbled, getting to his feet. There was no venom in his voice, just a sort of defeated lowness that was somehow worse. David stood dumbly, hearing the distant and familiar call of the trial.

 

 

 

It turned out to be something of a one step forward, two steps back-type thing, Dwight opening up to him just to shut tight in the next moment. But David was either too far in to stop now, or compelled, somewhat helplessly, to go on, a rush of adrenaline holding him hostage, a tether that bounced like an elastic slung around him and the other man.

 

Sitting on his knees in the dirt with Dwight’s cock half-way down his throat seemed like a step in the right direction, however, and honestly, in such a position, David was happier than hell, laughing miserably at how long it felt he’d gone without sex. What he couldn’t hold of Dwight’s cock in his mouth, he grasped loosely in his fist, focusing on mouthing at the head, bobbing up and down and circling the edge of the crown with the tip of his tongue.

 

“Don’t think this means we’re a- _ah!_ —th-thing, now,” Dwight choked out, before David squeezed the base of his cock, pulling at the balls and rolling them through his fingers. Dwight gasped and bit down on his bottom lip, drawing the pink curve between his white teeth.

 

“Right,” David slurred, “wouldn’t dream of it.”

 

He bobbed, looking up between dips of his head to see Dwight putting his finger in his mouth, biting at the knuckle and then sucking it between his teeth. _That_ practically threw David over the edge, took David by the hand and led him to the cliff; if he could work himself out of his belt and jeans he would be done in his own hand _so_ fast. Dwight’s eyes were closed, pleasure seeping through each little gasp and moan he released.

 

“You love it, doncha?” David hissed, then dove in again, sucking deep and hollowing his cheeks.

 

“Yeah, yes,” Dwight nodded, eyes closed and thighs clenching. His cock twitched in David’s mouth, and when he released it, it bounced happily towards his lips again, swaying excitedly. He sucked the head like a hard candy, pulling and swirling his tongue around the slit in a way that had Dwight’s fingers clenching, one hand on his knee and the other in his mouth. “I like it, I like it…” he moaned, words failing and turning into sounds, whines growing higher and faster until he came with a sigh, splurting eagerly into David’s mouth. David collected the cum and then spat it into the fire behind him. An offering for the Entity, indeed.

 

Dwight looked so good, his chest shuddering with breath, head tilted just back, lips parted around soft moans. David stood on his knees, pushing in between Dwight’s legs and leaning into his neck.

 

“God, I wanna be in you so bad,” David muttered, pulling at his own neglected hardness and bending to whisper in Dwight’s ear. “Right here,” he hissed, placing his hand on Dwight’s lower belly and pressing, “that’s where you’d feel me. Right in there.”

 

“Yeah,” Dwight moaned, letting his legs drop loosely open, letting David mouth at his neck while he pulled himself off. David came with a growl, spilling into his palm. He lifted Dwight’s chin with his clean hand and gathered him into a kiss, sucking Dwight’s tongue into his mouth. He was pliant post-orgasm, and David dared to hope he wouldn’t be pushed away when lucidity returned.

 

 

 

A new arrival was immediately killed in front of them, as was the custom, David had come to realize. Being first, Dwight must’ve seen all of them, shed tears for all of them. The kid with the beanie, Quentin, died spectacularly, screaming and sobbing as the killer lingered and stared into his terrified eyes. The kid came to the fire later despondent, staring at his hands. Dwight and Claudette practically cuddled him back to consciousness, petting his back and telling him the calmest possible tones that he was dead and there was no escape.

 

Death probably shouldn’t have the effect it did, but if it took a burst of pain to get Dwight in the mood for pleasure, David was glad for it. He settled Dwight down in the dirt, back against the log and coat under his naked lower half, and kissed him wherever he could reach.

 

White inner thighs marked with red splotches Dwight trembled and twitched when David nudged his hole, priming the pucker to spread around his fingers.

 

“There’s— _ah_ —salve in the medkit,” Dwight gestured, his face practically steaming. David reached across and flicked the latch open with one hand, stroking up and down Dwight’s thigh with the other.

 

“Cheers,” David chuckled, “you eager, love?”

 

“Yeah, whatever,” Dwight complained, parting his knees when a lube-slicked finger prodded his hole, followed by a second. He moaned, dropping his chin to his chest and gritting his teeth as he parted his legs wider, willed his body to relax.

 

“Where d’you want me?” David panted, practically light-headed. Dwight reached down with a limp hand, stretching his hole open with a V of his two first fingers.

 

“Here,” he moaned, eyes fluttering, “right in here.”

 

Entering him was like soaring, flying above the campfire that crackled in the background, and David’s eyes rolled back as he sunk inside, feeling Dwight clench around his length when he was half-way engaged. A few deep, shivering breaths later and he was fully inside, sucked into the rich, buttery heat of Dwight’s insides.

 

“Oh, fuck _me,_ ” Dwight groaned, voice low as he gripped the ribs of the log behind him like a headboard.

 

“Tryin’,” David chuckled, driving forward, holding Dwight’s thighs open with his hands under his knees. Dwight’s feet kicked out up by his shoulders, hissing as David sunk in past the spot inside him that made him see stars.

 

“Harder, please,” Dwight moaned, and if David wasn’t so intent on getting the angle just right, he’d laugh his head off at his luck. It was too good, Dwight sounded just like he’d imagined. Anyone could hear them, see them, but it didn’t matter—when all of your “friends” had seen you bleeding to death, soiling yourself and begging for your life, modesty wasn’t exactly a priority. Probably scared the shit out of the new kid, but Dwight’s abandon made David’s heart pound, and he slammed in deeper, knees chaffing inside his trousers as they scraped on the ground.

 

“Careful, love,” David boasted, “gonna get…f-fucked by the killer, if y’can’t…walk.”

 

Dwight pulled languidly at his length with one hand, circling the head with his palm, tugging the foreskin over the pink tip. “It’s fine,” he panted, “wanna…get fucked…”

 

Dwight started moaning as his peak neared, shutting his eyes and letting out delicious little sounds that drove David on, picking up his pace and pumping shallowly in and out. The angle let him hit Dwight’s prostate again and again and made Dwight grunt and groan and tip back his head, exposing his neck for David to slobber all over as he drove home one last time. Dwight spilled into his hand and David bust inside, looking down to watch himself pumping load after load into Dwight’s clenching body.

 

“Sorry, darling,” David panted, pulling awkwardly out, trailing a string of oozy cum.

 

“S’alright,” Dwight sighed, wrists falling limp at his sides. His chest rose and fell with fluttering breaths, and David was compelled to pull open his shirt and suckle. He flicked a nipple with his tongue, before starting a trail up to his neck and under his ear, wondering if the hickeys he left in a figure-eight-shaped line would heal just as quickly as every wound from the trial, and hoping mindlessly that they wouldn’t.

 

 

 

Sex usually did the trick, or rather, it had in the “alive” part of David’s life. Something about stripping naked and sharing your disgusting fluids with someone limited the uncertainty of a relationship a whole lot. Then, David was no expert and maybe was going about it all wrong, running on instinct and deciding on the fly, like he did in a trial. But Dwight clammed up again, cold as the mist, rolling his eyes and sighing whenever David tried to get his attention.

 

Circling the clearing, David watched as Dwight sidestepped around the fire pit in the opposite direction, avoiding him like he would a killer. David leapt from foot to foot before sweeping in and scooping Dwight into his lap and burying kisses in his neck, beneath his jaw and ear, squeezing his hand as he did. Dwight simply looked away, accepting the caresses without struggle, but frowning all the while.

 

“Take you out for dinner and a show? That what you want?” David murmured, leaning into Dwight’s ear and planting a kiss on the cool shell.

 

“Where, exactly?” Dwight scoffed.

 

“Here,” David answered. “Over ’ere’s a fancy tapas place,” he gestured to the log on which they were seated, sweeping a hand down its length, “maybe after, we take a walk on the pier,” he waved at a second log, where Ace was currently perched, looking at his watch. He raised an eyebrow at them and Dwight sighed out a bit of a derisive laugh.

 

“Then, back to mine,” David gestured to a further log, raising his eyebrows suggestively and lowering his voice until it was a near-silent hum, “’ave a few drinks, watch telly, one thing leads to the next…”

 

Dwight got to his feet. “Not that that doesn’t sound utterly appealing, but I’m gonna go for a walk,” he announced, and David stood as well.

 

“Where?” David asked, rugged smile fading.

 

“Downtown,” Dwight said sardonically, waving to the empty woods, their branches hanging low and oppressive, their roots gathering in bumps and coils, and darkness filling everything in between.

 

“You comin’ back?” David called, realizing with distinct horror just how desperate he sounded.

 

“I’ll call a cab,” Dwight answered, and walked off into the woods.

 

David gathered himself, considering letting this thing fall back a few steps. By all counts, he had exactly… _eternity_ to sort this out. Night was eternal, the moon the only light. But now it was David’s turn to say “no”. It was time to go forward, he decided, and stomped after Dwight into the damp forest.

 

Straying outside of the boundary of the campfire, the survivors were always drawn back in when the Entity called, but the forest seemed to stretch for miles outside of its reach, and David saw Dwight walking ahead. Leg still throbbing a little from its latest bout with the Hillbilly’s hammer, David stumbled over roots and rocks to Dwight, standing before him.

 

“What is this?” David asked plainly.

 

“ _This_ isn’t anything,” Dwight hissed, “this is…” he looked up at David, lips pressed into a heartbreaking pout and then he was looking at David like trying to bore a hole through him.

 

“I can’t do this.”

 

David frowned, sucking his teeth. “Didn’t sound so reluctant when I had my hand in yours, my tongue in your mouth,” he couldn’t help but hiss, seeing the shiver that snaked up through Dwight’s shoulders at the comment, “I’ve done the whole ‘friends with benefits shite. I want more. I want you to be special. I want to be special _to_ you.”

 

Dwight rolled his eyes, tears gathering in the corners. “If I’m…I can’t focus only on _you_. If we’re in a trial, I’m only going to be able to focus on you. I have to help everyone; I can’t treat anyone specially.”

 

David’s eyes widened at the confession. He pressed into the tree against which Dwight stood, illumined only by the ghostly light of the moon, its beams hard and prismatic on his face. David put his hand against the trunk, clenching his fist near Dwight’s neck.

 

“You our daddy, that it?” David chuckled, and Dwight stammered out a weak laugh, rubbing his eyes with the back of his fingers. “Gotta care for us all equally? How ’bout I be the mum, then?”

 

“Claudette’s the mom,” Dwight sniffled, and David nodded.

 

“Right,” he laughed, pressing in close, flicking his thumb over Dwight’s cheekbone.

 

“I’m serious, though. Worst case scenario happened and you—you _died_ in a trial—”

 

“Known to ’appen.”

 

“ _David_.” A firm sound, but a desperate one. David tightened his lips.

 

“I don’t…I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, if my…my _boyfriend_ …” Dwight stumbled for the words but they were clear to David. They had been echoing loud and clear in his own head for a long time, now.

 

“I don’t wanna fall for you.”

 

David wasn’t used to trying this hard, but it was too late to fall in line now.

 

Time to double-down on this whole “relationship” thing.

 

“You know what, darling?” David whispered, leaning close to the trunk so he could whisper in Dwight’s ear, “it’s already that for me. Has been for a long time.”

 

“David—” Dwight moaned, nearly on a sob.

 

“You’re all I see out there. Can’t see nuffing else. But in’t that the point? In’t that why I can see you, even when you’re miles away?”

 

“ _David_ …” Dwight implored, reaching out with trembling arms.

 

“In’t that why I’m here? For another shot at this ‘commitment’ shite? You’ve got me all wound up, love. And it’s not stopping.”

 

David went on, until Dwight’s hands came around his waist and pulled him in, burying his head in David’s shoulder and squeezing him tight. David slid his arms around Dwight’s shoulders, pulling him into a close embrace, chest to chest, hip to hip. Dwight’s foot slid between his and David pressed him into the tree trunk, securing him tight.

 

They held each other in the cold of the woods for what could’ve been the entire night, as after all, night was all there was.

 

 

 

The trial went south right quick, the new kid already lifted into the clouds and Nea trembling in some far-off corner with blood pouring down her torso from wounds in her back and shoulders. Dwight fared little better, cradling a dislocated arm, and David felt like his ankle was busted.

 

Stumbling and moaning through the field, blue and grey fog winding around them like seafoam mixed with pollution, David spotted the door first, and the killer hovering around the switch like a sadistic sentry. There wasn’t much left to do, and crippled before even entering the asylum grounds David could barely move without every muscle in his body aching.

 

A pulse echoed across the grounds and David knew it was just the two of them left. The trapdoor was hidden a few feet away, between dilapidated planks and crumbling brick, and David went, pulling Dwight by his uninjured arm.

 

“Come ’ere,” David whispered, crouching in the mist and pulling Dwight against him with an arm around his shoulders. He planted a kiss on his cheek, mouthing up his jaw and nuzzling into his ear, feeling Dwight pant and expire beneath his caress. He was fading, gash in his shoulder still oozing without dressing and only David’s clumsy hands to heal him.

 

Dwight panted, glasses askew. His eyes flicked in the direction of throbbing footfalls, then back to David, pulling a little at his coat.

 

They weren’t going to get out together, they were both too fragile in the moment. Pain flowed through his entire body with his blood and David stumbled to his feet, shoving Dwight away hard enough that he landed on his backside nearly just on top of the hatch.

 

“Worst case scenario, right, love?” David said, throwing out his hands as he backed away, step after deliberate step, turning to face the direction of the killer, who sniffed out his presence and gathered closer. Dwight stared in silent horror as David smiled and began to run as fast as his injured body could take him.

 

This was alright. It was good, in fact. He’d gotten smiles, gotten whines, and this wasn’t even the end, because there was no end, only endless night. This was the _start_.

 

 

 

The eternal vision of the fireside became clearer with each new blink he made, and David welcomed the sight rather than just tolerated it. Dwight was seated on the log, staring into the fire while his eyes watered, some from the heat but mostly the usual tears he shed for his teammates. David might’ve been gone hours, minutes, nights, as time, after all, unfolded here like a spool of tape rather than turned in a cycle. He stepped closer, feeling as fresh and untouched as he had when he arrived, seeing Dwight look up at him with red eyes.

 

For a moment, David expected coldness, but then Dwight was giving him a weak smile, drying his eyes with the backs of his knuckles.

 

“Fancy meeting you here,” Dwight uttered, and David beamed.


End file.
